The Things We Do For Love
by cj2017
Summary: "She had a dislocated shoulder and she still tackled a two-hundred pound suspect to the ground." - Maura in We Don't Need Another Hero


**Title:** _**The Things We Do For Love**_

**Author:** cj2017

**Fandom:** _Rizzoli & Isles_

**Rating:** T

**Category:** H/C, action, romance, with a short but significant cameo appearance from Bass.

**Notes: **"She had a dislocated shoulder and she still tackled a two-hundred pound suspect to the ground." - Maura in _We Don't Need Another Hero_.

Okay, so I heard that and I couldn't resist. I probably should've, but I couldn't. This is my take on that little hint of backstory. Thanks and love, as ever, to Cat for being an extremely patient beta. And to laurel_hardy for giving it the all-important American once-over. Feedback always welcome.

For the purposes of this fic, Jane is left handed, and I might have taken some liberties with the lay-out of Maura's house.

**Word Count:** About 3,100

**Disclaimer:** Don't own a thing. Please don't sue me.

. . . . .

_**The Things We Do For Love**_

. . . . .

If Jane Rizzoli was being honest, it hadn't been the best of days. The main suspect for the rape and murder of a teenaged mother had lawyered up and spent eight hours of interrogation repeating the phrase 'no comment' and chewing gum. The new pumps she had bought were rubbing the hell out of her left heel, and lunch had been a bag of Funyuns and a stale Twinkie that had been in her desk drawer for far longer than she cared to admit. The one, the _only_ saving grace had, as ever, been Maura Isles. At seven p.m. Maura had taken one look at the discarded junk food wrappers and the dark circles beneath her best friend's eyes, and had held out her hand.

"Come on, I'm buying."

Jane had shaken her head, gesturing to the mass of paperwork surrounding her, but Maura had refused to be swayed.

"Chinese. My place. We can go over the case files there, after you've had a break, taken something for that headache, and eaten a decent meal."

"How did you know…?" Picking up her jacket, Jane hadn't even bothered to complete the question; her head had been throbbing for hours, and Maura always knew.

. . . . .

Two Advil later, and the aroma coming from the bag of Chinese food was making Jane's stomach rumble as she clambered out of Maura's car. A warm breeze carried the scent of jasmine and honeysuckle towards her, and she took a deep breath, gratefully allowing the frustration of the day to fade into the background.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" Maura's heels clicked quietly on the driveway as she approached with her arms full of files. "My neighbor is quite the horticulturalist."

Jane smiled indulgently; why _would_ you say gardener when you could say horticulturalist? Taking the key from Maura's hand, she turned to unlock the front door, and all of the tension she had just managed to rid herself of slammed right back into her again.

"Oh shit."

"Jane?"

Quickly placing a finger on Maura's lips to quiet her, Jane pointed to the small window at the front of Maura's house. Behind the timer-operated blinds, a shadow moved, the beam of a flashlight passing over the fabric. Watching it, Maura's eyes widened.

"Bass!" she hissed against Jane's hand.

Jane shook her head distractedly. "Not sure your turtle can use a flashlight, Maura. Stay here. Call for back up."

"What are you going to do?"

Pulling out her gun, Jane flicked the latch on the gate that led to Maura's yard. "I'm going to go have a little look-see…"

. . . . .

Stepping through the gate, Jane cursed vehemently beneath her breath as a security light automatically came on to guide her clandestine approach to the back door.

"Oh, real fucking helpful," she muttered. "I might just as well have rung the fucking bell." Pressing herself to the wall, she waited for the light to blink off before continuing. As if there was some kind of conspiracy afoot, a full moon peeked out from behind a cloud as soon as she stepped into the yard. It gave her a glimpse of a perfectly manicured lawn edged by borders of blue and white flowers that seemed to glow in the silvery light, and it sparkled prettily on the shards of glass that were scattered all over the door step. The door, which looked as if it had been forced open with some difficulty, was swinging gently back and forth whenever the wind caught it. Jane clasped her gun in both hands as sweat dampened her palms. Doing her best to avoid the glass, she carefully opened the door wider.

The kitchen was empty. Surfaces that usually gleamed spotless and proud were littered with the debris of sandwich fixings: half a loaf of fresh bread, gourmet cheese ripening in the warm air, and the remnants of a large piece of ham that Jane suspected had cost more than her entire weekly food bill. She winced, feeling a fleeting pang of pity for the hungry intruder and hoping for his sake that she caught up with him before Maura did.

As Jane was trying to decide which room to search next, a soft belch from the living room gave the game away entirely.

Tiptoeing down the hallway, she paused at the living room door. It was slightly ajar, giving her a perfect view of her target.

"Jesus," she whispered, staring open-mouthed at the broad shoulders of a young man whose girth was spread over a sizable percentage of Maura's sofa. In one meaty fist he clenched what little remained of the snack he had assembled for himself, while the other hand was flicking through a file of autopsy photographs. A large duffel bag sat beside him. He had obviously been ready to make his getaway when morbid curiosity had gotten the better of him.

Jane glanced down at the gun in her hands and wondered about the impact of a bullet on someone of his considerable stature. With a sinking feeling she realized it would probably amount to little more than a bee-sting, unless she aimed for a kill-shot, which seemed slightly excessive given the relatively minor nature of his crime. She was debating the merits of aiming for a knee or a shoulder when a snuffle and a hint of movement at her feet distracted her completely.

"Oh shit. _Shit_."

Too slow to stop the meandering tortoise, Jane could only damn the creature to hell as it blundered into the door and pushed it open. Half-chewed chunks of cheese and crust dropped from the young man's mouth as his head jerked towards the unexpected noise. Reacting with a speed that belied his size, he launched himself to his feet whilst simultaneously hurling at Jane the first thing he was able to grab hold of.

Dodging back into the hallway to avoid the vase, Jane shielded her eyes from the splinters of crystal that rained down on her as it smashed against the door jamb.

"Son of a bitch!"

She was bringing her gun back up to bear when two-hundred-plus pounds of panicking felon slammed her awkwardly into the wall.

For a split second, there was nothing but pain and sparks of light dancing across her vision. Then, dimly, she heard her name cried out in distress and, recognizing the voice as Maura's, forced herself to open her eyes. Maura stood in the doorway of her kitchen with a look of horror on her face, and Jane was just in time to see the man throw a hurried punch that glanced off Maura's jaw and knocked her to the floor. The ruined back door crashed against the wall as he ran out into the yard.

"No, no, _no_! _Maura?_" Ignoring the awful pain in her left shoulder, Jane scooped her gun up and threw herself down at Maura's side. "Open your eyes, honey. Come on, come on, that's it." Her voice cracked and trembled as Maura groaned softly, a contusion already causing the side of her face to swell and redden. "I've got you, I've got you. Easy. No, don't try to move."

Despite Jane's protestations, Maura was pushing herself to sit up. Using her good arm, Jane carefully guided her to lean against the wall.

"I'm fine, Jane," Maura said, just about managing to conceal a grimace.

Clutching her hand, Jane winced in sympathy as Maura wiped a trickle of blood from her bottom lip.

"You okay for a minute?" This time the tremble beneath Jane's voice was wholly due to anger.

"I'm fine." Maura nodded towards the door. "Just be careful."

. . . . .

The young man might have been big, but he wasn't terribly smart and he wasn't terribly fast. Sprinting from Maura's driveway, Jane easily spotted him jogging down the road, stamina and stealth deserting him as he struggled to carry his duffel bag full of loot.

Jane gave chase, her gun feeling alien in her right hand, every step forcing her to grit her teeth as fiery agony blazed in her injured shoulder. In the end, she gave him as little warning as he had given Maura, abandoning her gun and an aim she didn't trust to throw herself bodily at his staggering mass. Already off-balance because of his bag, he lost his footing completely and fell face-first onto the sidewalk. His nose hit first, splitting on impact, swiftly followed by his forehead, which bounced with a dull thud that rendered him senseless. Finding herself in the undignified position of straddling his back, Jane shrugged with her good shoulder and decided it was as good a place as any to wait for the cavalry to arrive.

. . . . .

"Jane!"

Dropping the handcuffs she hadn't managed to wrangle one-handed, Jane looked up as Maura ran towards her.

"Hey." She smiled, too relieved to be anything but happy to see her. "Little help?"

Following Jane's gaze down to the handcuffs, Maura hesitated in confusion and then took a moment to study her best friend's posture.

"Oh, Jane." The squared-off appearance of Jane's left shoulder told Maura everything she needed to know, and she quickly fastened the handcuffs in place around the unconscious man's wrists. "You did this with a dislocated shoulder?"

Her teeth working hard on her bottom lip, Jane nodded. "Didn't really feel it before, but it hurts like hell now," she admitted.

"That'll be the adrenaline wearing off. Here…" Gingerly joining Jane on the man's back, Maura supported the weight of Jane's arm, easing the pressure on the misaligned joint. "Better?"

Jane nodded, her eyes already closing with relief. "Much. Thanks. What a fucking day."

Maura's quiet laugh was drowned out by the wail of approaching sirens.

. . . . .

Pressing an ice pack to the side of her face, Maura watched the paramedics and several obliging police officers heave the long board and its restrained patient onto a waiting gurney.

"He'll live," Korsak told her as the ambulance doors slammed shut. "Never gonna be pretty again, though." He chuckled gruffly; the man's nasal fracture had been nothing short of spectacular. "She's over there," he said as Maura opened her mouth to speak. "Raising hell as usual. Talk some sense into her, will you, doc?" He headed off back towards the house, leaving Maura to walk across to the second ambulance. As she approached, the sound of an argument reached her easily over the chaos of the crime scene.

"Okay then." A man's voice, weary but laced with cunning. "If it's _fine_, Detective, then sign this for me."

Maura rounded the rear door of the ambulance to find Jane perched on its steps with a long-suffering paramedic holding a clipboard out to her. Jane gripped his pen in her bad hand until her knuckles whitened around it, but the dislocation had locked her arm in place and there was no way she could raise it to sign his indemnity form. He sighed as Maura approached.

"She needs to go to the hospital, Doctor Isles."

"I know." She held her hand out, and with a snarl of exasperation Jane dropped the pen into it. "Stay still."

With the lightest of touches, Maura felt around Jane's shoulder. Jane shuddered, her face glistening with cold sweat in the intermittent red and blue strobes of the emergency vehicles' lights. Stepping back, Maura fixed her with a look that strongly suggested she pay attention.

"You have an anterior dislocation of your shoulder, Jane. Most likely it will need reducing under anesthetic. Now, I am going to put an IV line in your good arm and this very nice young man is going to give you quite a lot of morphine."

She glanced up at the paramedic, who nodded his agreement. Jane shook her head, scowling at them both.

"Morphine makes me throw up, Maura."

"Yes." Maura swabbed Jane's wrist and took the cannula that the paramedic held out to her. "We'll give you something for that as well. Sharp stick here." Without further warning, she pierced the vein and slid the needle into place.

"Ow!" Jane glanced down. "Oh hey, got it first time," she said, genuinely impressed.

"Thank you." True to her word, Maura stepped aside for the paramedic to administer the drugs, watching and waiting as the creases of pain gradually disappeared from Jane's face. "That feel any better?"

"Mmm," Jane murmured, not caring or even seeming to notice as her arm was secured in a sling.

"You riding with us, Doctor?" The paramedic still sounded slightly wary, despite the fact that his patient was now staring in stupefaction at the lights that were flashing all around her.

"Well, I don't think she'll be giving you any more trouble, but I'd like to ride along if that's okay." Taking hold of Jane's right hand, Maura ran her thumb across the back of it.

Jane smiled blearily at her touch, and without a word of dissent allowed Maura to guide her onto the gurney.

. . . . .

It had been almost three hours, and the morphine was wearing off. Having been given the all-clear, Maura was sitting beside Jane's bed in the ER, rapidly running out of ways to distract her.

With a low growl, Jane interrupted Maura's rambling description of the best way to bake a soufflé, by thudding her head back against the pillow.

"I could just smack it into a wall," she said, desperation creeping into her voice. "I've seen it done in movies and it always works just fine. Oh, fucking hell, Maura." The sheets twisted as she ground her fists into them. "Please, can't you put it back in for me? _Please_."

Maura stood up and gently disentangled Jane's fingers from the bedding. "I can't, Jane. You need to be asleep for it…" She whipped her head around as the door opened and the doctor who had seen Jane only briefly when she had arrived hurried into the cubicle.

"Sorry to keep you, Detective. Doctor Isles." He winked at Maura; they had trained together years ago before choosing their respective career paths. "We've had a multi-casualty pile-up on the freeway and our anesthetist is still tied up with one of the patients. Looking at your X-rays, that shoulder should go back in without any problems, but we need to put you under for it and that means waiting for my colleague to finish up."

As he scribbled a note on Jane's chart, Maura cleared her throat. "I can manage her airway if it'll be easier."

The doctor considered Maura carefully for a few seconds and then looked at Jane, who eagerly nodded her consent.

"Well, it would certainly move things along if you're up for it." He made a _why the hell not_ gesture as Maura nodded. "Give me five minutes and I'll get the paperwork written up."

The door swung shut behind him and Maura sank back onto her chair, the gravity of what she had just offered to do suddenly hitting her.

"It'll be fine." There was no hint of doubt in Jane's voice.

Raising her head, Maura smiled at the absolute confidence she could see in Jane's expression. "Of course it will," she said. "Marcus is a great doctor…"

Jane didn't let her finish. "I trust _you_, Maura."

A surge of emotion threatened to undo all of Maura's composure. "You do?"

Jane grinned. "Always."

. . . . .

The anesthetic drug took rapid effect. Standing by the head of Jane's bed, Maura watched as Jane's eyes grew heavy, her head shaking as she stubbornly resisted the pull of sleep. As she finally lost consciousness, a nurse lowered the top of the bed until it was flat, before stepping aside to allow Maura to move into position.

Taking a steadying breath, Maura tilted Jane's chin, carefully sliding a plastic airway into her mouth and then holding an oxygen mask in place.

"That's good," Marcus said quietly. "No one would know you hadn't done that in years. Ready?"

"Ready," Maura confirmed.

Beneath her fingers, the pulse at Jane's throat throbbed reassuringly, the rate relayed in slow, regular beats on the monitor. Maura focused on the rhythmic beeping, watching the relaxed rise and fall of Jane's chest and ignoring the sounds of exertion Marcus was making as he pulled on Jane's shoulder. Three minutes passed by: thirty-six breaths before an audible pop signaled the success of the procedure. Jane's brow crinkled in a delayed frown of discomfort, but Maura's hand stroking her cheek and a stream of murmured reassurance was all it took to settle her.

"I'd get her into a sling while she's still out," Maura said, as Marcus evaluated the position of Jane's arm.

He smiled. "Yeah, I had a feeling you might say that."

. . . . .

"My nose itches." The whine in Jane's voice carried easily from her bed into her en suite bathroom.

"Jane, you have two hands. Scratch it with the one that works."

"I can't." Jane glowered at her recalcitrant right hand. "It's all drugged and useless."

Fastening the last button on the pajamas Jane had loaned her, Maura sat on the edge of Jane's bed and waited for Jane to wriggle closer.

"Honestly, the things I do," she muttered as she scratched Jane's nose.

Jane sighed contentedly. "I'd scratch your nose for you, Maura. You know I would."

"Mmhm. Did you take your pain pills?"

"Yep."

"Do I need to check under your tongue?"

"Be my guest."

Maura swatted Jane's arm and then shuffled under the duvet to lie beside her.

"Did you take _your_ pills, Doctor?"

With clumsy fingers, Jane traced the livid bruising that spread from Maura's jaw to the curve of her cheekbone.

"I did, and I'm fine. Go to sleep."

"Those pills gonna knock me out again?" A huge yawn gave Jane her answer before Maura had the chance.

"That's the general idea, yes."

Maura shook her head with a laugh as Jane attempted to look angry and merely succeeded in looking comfortable and very drowsy. Turning onto her side, Maura rested her hand against Jane's cheek, relieved to feel the warmth of her skin, the pallor and clamminess having long since been banished by a hot bath and decent pain meds. Jane tilted her head slightly, and Maura felt Jane's lips touch the palm of her hand in the softest of kisses. Swallowing hard, tears blurring her vision, Maura tried not to think about the pull and ache of the bruising on her face or about the man who had so casually assaulted her and her best friend in a home where she had always felt safe. Instead, she closed her eyes and allowed the peaceful give and take of Jane's breath against her hand to lull her to sleep.

. . . . .

End

. . . . .

Tiny bit of gratuitous pimpage for anyone who might be interested in reading some original f/f fiction by me… My first novel, _Snowbound_, is being published by _Bold Strokes Books_ on December 12th and is available for pre-order at their website or over on amazon. I've put the links up on my ff . net profile page. Thanks!


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